


Safely Home

by dbhprincess



Series: No Longer Alone [16]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbhprincess/pseuds/dbhprincess
Summary: In which Connor and Hank are home, and safe.A HankCon AU inspired by the 2015 filmThe Martian. Takes place after the events ofNo Longer Alone.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: No Longer Alone [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006686
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Safely Home

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was first written as part of a [thread series](https://twitter.com/i/events/1294694026780631042) on Twitter.

It took three gasping breaths and three times as many heartbeats for Connor to remember he was no longer on Mars. His pounding heart rushed blood through his ears, but it couldn’t drown out the wind roaring on the other side of the wall next to him or the smack of leaves and debris whipped against their bedroom window. A sudden burst of light illuminated their open closet across from the bed, and Connor counted to five before the answering thunder sounded. He held his blanket tighter, then quietly sat up with a sigh. Trying to fall back to sleep would be of no use with that storm raging outside.

Snuggled deep under the covers beside him, Hank slept peacefully on. For a moment, the cacophony around them was forgotten, and Connor smiled at the few wild, gray strands that peeked out from the top of the comforter. Hank had seen him safely home. Connor had received a hero’s welcome across the world, but in the days following their return to Earth, he had seen to it that Hank wasn’t overlooked, made sure that no one forgot the man who, after years in space, had seen them all safely home.

If the man with such responsibility was at peace on this night, Connor would try to be, too. But at the moment, he was unsettled and needed time for the adrenaline to flush from his veins. Might as well get up and face it, then. Look that storm right in the eye and show it he was made of sterner stuff.

He slipped soundlessly from the bed and grabbed Hank’s alma mater hoodie from the back of the single armchair in the room. It was Connor’s now. It was bigger and softer than anything Connor had, and he preferred big and soft. He pulled it on over Hank’s old Knights of the Black Death t-shirt and over the waistband of his flannel pajama pants. When Connor had found that t-shirt buried at the back of his side of the closet, Hank had laughed about his younger and slimmer “glory days,” and Connor had thought of the comfort Hank’s wretched heavy metal had provided during his loneliest hours on Mars. From then on, he always wore it to bed.

When he stepped into the hallway, he heard Sumo pacing restlessly in the living room, no doubt agitated by the approaching thunder. Another loud crack vibrated the charged air outside, and Sumo whined and began to pant. Connor hurried his steps, forgetting to avoid the creaking floorboard at the entrance to the living room in his haste to comfort his dog. Sumo caught sight of him there and ambled over. He dropped to one knee and placed both hands on Sumo’s massive head.

“Hey buddy, don’t like the thunder?” Connor asked in a hushed voice while rubbing Sumo’s ears gently. “Well, I don’t like the wind. Guess neither of us is gonna sleep well tonight.”

“Connor?” Hank’s sleep-roughened voice carried down the hallway, and both Connor’s and Sumo’s heads lifted and turned to look at him. “What’s the matter, babe?”

Connor took in Hank’s messy hair and smiled. “Nothing, really. The storm’s bothering Sumo is all.”

Hank grunted and scratched his chest. “Not the only one it bothered, apparently,” he muttered quietly before raising his voice again. “I’m gonna take a leak. Why don’t you start some hot chocolate?”

Connor nodded and stood, then walked into the kitchen without turning on the overhead light. There was enough light cast from their neighbor’s porch and the nightlight on the wall to see by. And besides, Connor knew from experience that a well-lit room did not feel any safer than a dim one when the wind raged outside.

While waiting for Hank, Connor gathered the supplies for their hot chocolate – homemade and heated on the stovetop, the way Hank liked it. Hank also liked building fires on cold nights, listening to original press records, and driving vintage cars. Connor just liked Hank, and every little thing about him.

Languidly grating a large chocolate bar, Connor looked out the kitchen window toward the dock at the edge of their property, running his gaze across the lights over the water. A few weeks after coming home, they’d gotten married at the end of that dock to the sounds of the river flowing steadily beneath them and the rhythmic panting of their beloved new dog beside them. A smile tugged at Connor’s mouth. Hank had guessed right: Sumo loved the water. It was a fact they discovered that day when Sumo had tired of sitting patiently in the warm sun and unexpectedly leapt into the water.

Another brilliant flash suddenly lit the sky, followed quickly by a tremendous boom and strong gust of wind, and Connor startled badly. Sumo stood from where he’d lain down near Connor’s feet and leaned against his right leg. Sumo was panting again, but Connor stood silently, staring out at the large backyard trees being lashed by the wind. He forcibly reminded himself that their house was solid, safe, and permanent. Everything he knew their relationship to be.

The floorboard that separated the living room and hallway creaked under a heavy tread, but Connor didn’t turn from the window. Hank stepped up beside him and wrapped a long, strong arm around his waist, tucking him against a broad shoulder. Connor couldn’t stop himself from rubbing his cheek against the soft fleece of the robe he had given Hank as a wedding present. Since he’d commandeered Hank’s hoodie, he figured he owed him some kind of replacement.

Hank kissed the top of his head and pulled him in just a little bit tighter. “I know that look on your face, Connor. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

He was thinking about Mars again, and he was tired of it. Tired of intrusive memories and the phantom brush of feelings he had no need for anymore. Tired of revisiting that barren rock when he didn’t sign up to take the trip. But Hank had made it very clear that Connor was to talk to him whenever those memories or feelings arose. And with the violence of the storm outside, they certainly had.

Hank squeezed his waist in encouragement, and Connor sighed. “I don’t like the wind.” He looked up into Hank’s eyes, deeply blue in the dim light. “When the Hab’s airlock ruptured, I had to seal it with canvas and duct tape. It was strong and secure, but there were a few bad windstorms that made the whole Hab shake, and that canvas just _shuddered_ with it, stretching in and out. And the _noise_ …” Connor stopped and wiped a hand across his mouth. “God, it was terrifying. One little tear and I would’ve been dead in seconds.”

Hank’s hand slid down to Connor’s hip to rub little circles there as Connor spoke again, his voice strained. “It’s stupid to feel like this, now. I know we’re safe in here, but I can’t seem to convince my body of that.”

The stood in silence together a few minutes longer, both thinking of what could have been, but Connor began to feel a little calmer, as if voicing his fears dissipated some of their power. And he felt supported, propped up on each side by a warm, living body: Hank against his left and Sumo on his right. This time, when a particularly vicious streak of lightning rent the sky over the river and a forceful gust carried with it the sound of thunder, neither Connor nor Sumo flinched.

But Connor felt Hank tense, and the hand on his hip stilled. So he turned and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Now it was Hank who sighed, and his broad shoulders seemed to sag under a weight as the tension slowly seeped out of his body. “It was storming that night. You remember I told you that?”

Connor nodded and Hank continued. “Right before that truck started to skid, there was lightening. I couldn’t see anything properly for a few seconds afterwards. I don’t know if the flash is what caused the driver to lose control, and I don’t know if it made any meaningful difference in my reaction time, but I’ll always wonder. What if there hadn’t been lightening that night? What if it had struck just a second sooner, or later? Just…what if, you know?”

“Yeah, I know a thing or two about ‘what ifs’,” Connor said softly before reaching up to kiss Hank on the cheek. Hank gave him a small smile, and Connor smiled back. “So, you don’t like lightening, Sumo doesn’t like thunder, and I don’t like strong winds. We’re a trifecta of thunderstorm phobias. I suppose if we stick together in these trying times, we just might make it through without becoming basket cases.”

Hank snorted and whispered, “Idiot,” under his breath. Sumo huffed a sigh and padded off to snuffle at his empty food bowl. And Connor realized the wind had died down.

“Listen,” he said, cocking his ear upward as he heard the tentative pattering of rain drops hitting the roof.

Hank hummed. “Hm. The first rain of the season.”

“Our first rain since we left the planet,” Connor reminded him. He swiveled away from Hank’s arm and grabbed his hands. “Come on. Let’s go get wet.”

But when he stepped toward the back door and tugged, Hank didn’t budge. “Are you crazy? You want to go out in the rain, in the middle of the night, in a thunderstorm?”

Connor grinned. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, the wind is quieter and the lightening is moving south. We’ll be fine.” He tugged again, and this time Hank followed.

“The things I do for you,” Hank scoffed, shaking his head as they put on their jackets and boots by the door. But his eyes were soft, and when Connor stood back up, Hank laced his fingers with Connor’s own.

And that’s how Connor found himself standing at the end of the dock in his husband’s arms, swaying together in a dance set to the music of the storm, under a shower of rain. The wind still wafted around them, but it was gentler now, no longer a force to stir up bad memories. Instead, it blew Hank’s hair into his eyes, giving Connor an excuse to run his fingers through it and tuck it behind Hank’s ear. Lightening still flashed, but it was distant, like that terrible night long ago when a little boy was taken away. Rather than illuminating the loss, it lit the reality of their love right here, right now. Any thunder that rumbled was just an electrifying caress, as thrilling as Hank’s voice against Connor’s ear in the quiet of night.

Connor felt a bubble of laughter swell from his heart and expand his chest. His love for the big man holding him tightly was greater than any storm; his happiness with him was stronger than any fear. He tilted his face up to the sky and closed his eyes as the cool drops bathed his skin, washing away any tension that remained. He let that laugh loose, felt it press his chest closer to Hank's. And when he lowered his face back down, the love reflected in Hank’s ocean-deep eyes was a sight Connor couldn’t, wouldn’t turn from. He sealed their mouths in a soft, slow, deep kiss, in an unspoken renewal of their vows.

They stayed locked together until Connor began to shiver from the cold. Hand in hand, they quickly returned to the warmth of the dark kitchen, giggling like fools and stumbling out of their boots. Sumo trotted up to greet them. He had wanted to join them for an impromptu romp in the yard, but considering the volume of water a Saint Bernard coat could hold, they had left him inside. Because they might have been a little crazy tonight, but they weren't stupid.

Connor leaned down to give Sumo rubs and pats while Hank dropped a scoop of kibble in his food bowl. Then Hank straightened and said, “Alright, into the shower with you. I’ll not have my husband getting sick on my honeymoon. Gimme your clothes so I can toss them in the dryer.”

Connor stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Hank’s waist. “You got it, Commander,” he said before placing a peck on Hank’s nose. “Join me?”

Hank smirked. “Haven’t had enough of me tonight, huh?”

Slipping his hands lower to grab two handfuls, Connor replied, “Never.”

\-----

After a long, warming shower, Connor stepped out of the bedroom in pajamas fresh from the dryer. Hank followed him down the hallway, rubbing a towel over his head. His thick, coarse waves always took longer to dry than Connor’s silky curls. They’d already decided they were too awake to try to go back to sleep just yet, so Connor turned into the kitchen to finish making hot chocolate while Hank built a fire in the living room.

A few minutes later, with a steaming mug in each hand, Connor stood at the threshold between the two rooms, content to admire the scene before him. Hank was crouched before the fireplace, arranging logs over the fledgling flames. His broad back was lit by the lamp on the end table between the couch and recliner; the strong planes of his profile were highlighted by firelight. Sumo, his stomach full, was napping on the heavy rug between the coffee table and tiled hearth. Connor was a very lucky man.

A sudden surge of wind rattled the loose glass pane in the front door. Connor took a breath and focused on the cheerful crackling and popping of the fire that burnished the walls around him with a calming glow. Hank turned toward him then – perhaps he heard his breath, or perhaps they were just that in tune – and stood.

“Come sit with me,” he said, with a gentle voice and an outstretched hand.

They were soon snuggled together on the couch, Connor tucked under Hank’s left arm and their legs stretched atop the coffee table. They sipped their drinks in silence until Hank brushed his toes along the top of Connor’s foot and asked, “You feeling better, baby?”

“Yes,” Connor answered after a moment’s thought. He was feeling better, truly. Hank always made him feel better. He shifted his eyes from the fire to study Hank’s face. “Are you?”

Hank took a drink and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m good. Having you here keeps me grounded here, and not falling back into the past.” He leaned over and placed his mug on the end table next to him, then rubbed his eyes. “I’m tired, though. Getting too old for late nights. Ain’t got your stamina, you know. Thankfully, we can sleep in as long as we want tomorrow.”

Connor handed his empty mug to Hank, who put it next to its twin, and laid his hand on Hank’s chest. “Your stamina suits me just fine, big guy.” Hank smirked at him, and Connor winked back. “But I am glad we’re honeymooning at home and can do whatever we want.”

When Hank had asked Connor if he wanted a honeymoon trip, Connor had answered in no uncertain terms that he was done with traveling for a while and had been away from home long enough. Uninterrupted time with Hank was all he needed to celebrate their commitment. With Sumo there, too, of course. They got him only a week before the wedding; they weren’t about to leave him again so soon.

Connor continued, “At least until the press circuit.”

Dropping his head back on the couch, Hank groaned. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

The moment Connor had stepped foot on Earth soil, the world had hungered for his time. Requests for interviews were unceasing, and Connor reluctantly acknowledged to himself that he did owe the world something, some piece of his story, of his thoughts and feelings, of himself. Thousands of people, millions even, across the planet were invested in his well-being, and he couldn’t deny them a satisfying epilogue.

But he wasn’t ready to author that final ending so soon. He needed time of his own: to debrief with NASA, to visit his long-suffering parents, to adopt a dog, to plan a wedding and make the move to Hank’s house. He needed to feel normal for a little while first. So Hank had put his foot down – on the gas pedal of his Oldsmobile, for that long drive home together – guarding Connor from prying, pushy people like the gentle giant he was.

Connor shrugged. “It can’t be helped. It’s the price I have to pay for so many people being willing to put the time, money, and effort into saving my ass.” He slid his hand down and poked Hank in the belly. “And it’s the price you have to pay for actually saving my ass.”

Hank grunted and dropped his left hand from Connor’s arm to pinch his thigh, making him jump. “So what you’re saying is, it’s all your ass’ fault.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so fond of it, then,” Connor said, lifting Hank’s hand from his lap and placing kisses across four thick knuckles.

Hank smiled and agreed, voice pitched low. “I am. From toes to curl-tips, and everything in between.”

Connor rubbed his thumb across the gold band on Hank’s finger. He lined his own up with it and watched them gleam in the firelight. Cradling the broad hand to his chest, he tucked his face deeper into Hank’s shoulder. “You old smooth-talker.”

“‘Old’ is right,” Hank replied dryly, and Connor snorted at their long-running joke.

“Seasoned, remember?” he mumbled back. He was so comfortable against his husband’s warm, soft body.

“I remember,” Hank answered fondly as he twisted to pull a blanket off the back of the couch, then draped it over their legs. Connor closed his eyes.

Outside, the wind had picked up again. It tore through tree branches in the backyard and across the river, ripping off leaves and whipping up waves. Connor didn’t like it one bit. But inside this small house filled with love, he was safe, he was home; he had a home and a family all his own. Against all odds, he’d gotten that chance at a better life, and he’d lifted his face to it like to refreshing rain amidst a storm.

Wrapped in Hank’s arms, soothed by Sumo’s soft snores, Connor said a quiet f- you to Mars. If his voice could have carried through the vacuum of space, it would have taken about twelve minutes to get there. It didn’t really matter, though, because twelve minutes later, Connor was already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that’s all for now, folks. Their mission is over, their journey is through. We got these boys home together, happy, and safe. I may write more of their story again someday, but until then, thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this incredible ride. I appreciate you all. 💕


End file.
